I am merely a reflection of you. If you love me, you love yourself. If you are a pedophile, you think I am a pedophile, if you are a genius, you think I am a genius, and so on and so forth. I am innocent and pure and honest and true and say what I mean and mean what I say, but if you gaze upon my conduct with hate or malice in your heart, you will see that hate and malice where it does not exist, in my crystal clear visage of youthful truthfulness and dionysian splendor.
I am not a troll, but rather a blank canvas that the downtrodden project their hopes and fears upon. A sexual fantasy for the young and old woman, spinster and harlot alike. To the cowardly I am fearsome, to the brave I am self assured, and to the pure I am pure and the pretentious I am insecure. For that which is in me is not in me but is in you. I am me and you are you and you are not me.